My Name is Natalie
by happytide
Summary: Natasha doesn't usually make a habit of harboring terrorist but James Buchanan Barnes has something she needs. Regrettably, it's lost somewhere in his brain, along with more than a few fundamental pieces of memory. Before she can help solve his puzzle, she must become someone he trusts. So, it's odd that the first words from her mouth should be a lie. (Post Winter Soldier)
1. Chapter 1: Rescue Mission

**My Name Is Natalie**

By Happytide

* * *

_Chapter 1: Rescue Mission_

_Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: 21:16_

It would be the last time she did this. She was through with the covert operations that kept her from obtaining a healthy sleeping schedule and the double, often triple, crossing missions that sometimes confused even _her_. And to be honest, her body just didn't fit into these crammed, little spaces like it used to. She was no longer the Black Widow, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and former Soviet spy.

Now she was Natasha. Just Natasha.

Except for tonight. Tonight was the _one _exception.

Natasha dropped silently from the vent and landed on the tech's shoulders. With a sharp twist of her thighs, the guy was out cold. She caught his fall as he went limp. Natasha disentangled herself from his body as her eyes flickered up to the rotating cameras in the dark room. She pulled out the cryptographic sequencer from her belt and disabled their recording functions.

Natasha had approximately eighty seconds before the two remaining techs in the room would receive a phone call in regards to the security breach. It only took ten for her to knock out the two men and rifle through their pockets for a security card. She pulled her auburn hair up into a high ponytail as she approached the operation desk.

As the phone began to ring, Natasha was slipping a thumb drive into the computer. She picked up the head piece and wrapped it around her ear before she continued typing. She didn't expect to hear Agent Hill's voice on the other end.

"There's been a situation. We're going to need you to wrap things up. Now."

Natasha's eyes flashed as she came across a file labeled Barton, Clint. Bingo.

"I'm almost done here."

The file was locked. At least it was _supposed_ to be. With just a few encryptions she would be able to view it. As Natasha hacked into file, she glanced to the side to see the documents had finished downloading onto the thumb drive. Well, her job here was done but she wasn't leaving until Clint's file was opened.

"We have our intel. It's time for you to go."

A beep came from the headset and Natasha smirked. They were twenty seconds late.

"Hold on there's someone on the other line."

"No, Agent Roman-"

_Beep_. A man with a Russian accent replaced Agent Hill's voice.

"Your area is no longer secure-"

"I'll say."

"Who is this?"

"You called _me,_ remember?"

There was a pause on the other end before his tone quickly turned threatening. "As we speak, our security teams is working to-"

The line suddenly went dead and Natasha squinted in confusion as the sound of gun fire filtered into the dark room. As the extraction program began on Clint's file, Natasha switched the screen to the surveillance cameras and swiped through the live feed.

The footage revealed the base to be on high alert. Natasha watched in apprehension as Hydra security teams spilled into the corridors, heavily armed and fire arms raised. Hydra agents were scattering through the building, rushing behind closed doors and barricading themselves into rooms.

This wasn't because of _her_. Was there another agent here? Who the hell was jeopardizing her operation? She continued to browse through the surveillance feed in bewilderment.

Then she stopped when she came across the feed from the south corridor. The threat was a _man_. Even with black mask and the eye wear she recognized him.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Or, at least that's who he used to be. Well, what the hell was _he_ doing here? Natasha hadn't seen him since the Helicarrier incident from nearly a year ago and after that, he'd fell off the grid and virtually disappeared.

From the looks of it, he certainly hadn't been invited. She watched as the former terrorist ripped his way through the Gydra gunmen like they were just weeds in his way. Barnes yanked a small man in a lab coat right off his feet and slammed him into the wall. The poor man's feet dangled off the ground as Barnes held him by neck and shoved his hand gun up against the man's temple.

Natasha turned her attention back to the other screen; the file was opened. Natasha quickly read the short line with an exhale of anger and disappointment.

_Barton Clint: **Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division:** Former Operative. _

_Deceased_.

And that was it. Another dead end. Damn it!

As she erased the file she looked back to the surveillance footage. The feed didn't pick up on audio so she didn't know what Barnes was saying to the man in the lab coat. The terrified man was shaking his head vigorously though as he squirmed in Barnes's metal grip. Natasha clicked closer into the frame so she could read the man's lips.

_"I don't know! Please, I don't know where he is-"_

The man suddenly went limp and Natasha realized that Barnes had pulled the trigger. Alright, it was time to go. Natasha plucked the thumb drive from the computer before quickly activating the software destruction program. That would set these assholes back for months.

She glanced at the feed one last time as she pulled her twin Glock 26s from their dual holsters. Damn. He was headed down this corridor. As much as she would like to thank him for the distraction he was providing, she'd already had enough interactions with that man to last her a lifetime.

Natasha stepped from the dark room and looked both ways before proceeding down the bright corridor in the _opposite_ direction of Barnes. She sprinted through several hallways before coming to an abrupt stop upon finding a blockade of Hydra agents straight ahead. She ducked out of the way and around the corner, narrowly missing the immediate spray of bullets.

As Natasha pressed her back against the wall, she took in a deep breath and started thinking. Across from here was a vent but she would need to cross into the line of fire to get to it. She wouldn't make it two steps without becoming Swiss cheese...but maybe...

Barnes was headed this way; she could wait for him and let him receive the welcoming party. It was his fault anyways. Natasha crouched down and awaited for his arrival.

After just a few more long moments of patience, the sound of gun fire broke out across the corridor again. _He'd arrived._ Natasha didn't dare stick her head out to look around the corner and see if he was still alive. The gun fire hadn't ceased so she could only assume he was still standing. From the startled shouts coming from the blockaded end of the hallway, Natasha guessed he was packing some fire power of his own. He finally passed by her hiding place and Natasha's jaw dropped.

...he had an _RPG-7_.

Dark chunks of hair fell across his forehead as he slowly stalked past Natasha and hefted the powerful weapon over his shoulder. In _here_?! Was he _out of his mind?_

Barnes passed Natasha without even seeing her. She curled closer to her own body and wrapped her arms around her head, muffling her ears. Without warning, a heavy _th__unkkk _came from around the corner and Natasha barred her teeth. The explosion quickly followed and the entire building shook from the impact.

After that, all gun fire stopped.

Natasha stood shakily as her ears began to ring and her eyes locked onto the vent opposite of her. She stepped from around the corner and looked down the desecrated corridor.

Barnes stood like a dark agent of chaos amongst the debris. He tossed the empty RPG down as he surveyed the littered bodies and scorched floor around him. Natasha moved towards the vent but froze when he slowly raised head. She couldn't see his eyes beyond the dark lenses of his goggles but she _knew_ he was looking directly at her.

Natasha raised her handgun in his direction immediately and placed her finger on the trigger. She didn't pull; Steve would never forgive her if she did. This was a grey area.

They were frozen like that for however many moments before he slowly turned his head at her the way a dog titled his head in curiosity. When a dog got rabies you put him down because he was dangerous. Kill or be killed, right?

That's when a dart hit his neck. And then another, followed by three more. Natasha's eyes widened and he dropped to his knees. Behind him she could see several agents coming their way. Without hesitation, Natasha quickly slipped into the vent before they could see her.

* * *

What the hell had ever happened to traveling to Barcelona? A new country, a new name, a new face and a new cover; _that_ had been the plan. Natasha had imagined owning a small loft, spending her mornings at some local coffee house and evenings strolling along the Spanish beaches. She had planned to do some of that soul searching she'd heard so much about. That's what normal people did right?

Normal people didn't do _this_, that was for sure. Well, once she was out of here she would just have to settle for a long, hot bath. One step at a time, right?

As Natasha traveled through the ventilation system the small communicator on her belt vibrated. She put it to her ear as she crawled along the dark space.

"Agent Romanoff, there's been a change of plans."

"What?" Natasha hissed at Agent Hill. "No, I got you your intel. I'm leaving."

"I'm afraid it won't be so simple. My sources say the entire base's security level is on FPCON Delta. You're not going to make it out of there without over riding their security system."

"Is there any possibility that you could over ride it yourself?" Fat chance.

"No. Not from where I'm at."

Nothing was ever easy.

* * *

"It's good to have you home soldier."

The doctor's weathered voice echoed through the one way glass behind Natasha. It had taken her some time to reach the security room but only because the base was on high alert. She'd had to be careful, unseen and untraceable. Which all, regrettably, surmounted to being slow.

Although the base was on high alert, Natasha found the small pocket of Hydra resistance to be one of the lesser developed ones she had came across. Their systems were outdated and their men didn't have the best combative training. The unconscious security officer slumped in the chair to her right was a testament of that.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at the small laboratory chamber beyond the one-way glass wall. Several armed agents stood by as the doctor strapped Barnes to the operating table and an assistant slipped an IV into his forearm.

They had removed his black vest along with his mask and eyewear leaving him seeming, oddly, vulnerable. His eyes fluttered open and even from here Natasha could see the guy was out of it. What had they put in his IV?

The doctor motioned for the assistant to begin attaching a machine around Barnes's head. These crazy bastards still used shock therapy.

"We're going to start this off slow, with just a few simple questions."

Natasha turned her attention back to unlocking the security systems. With a bit of digging she found their signal program and changed the alarm setting to code black. Soon the entire base would believe the attack was over. The system would activate any second now and a steady siren would come on the speakers.

Any second now...God, their systems were outdated. She looked back through the window at the doctor as he leaned over Barnes. Natasha really didn't feel like sticking around for this.

"Now, who sent you here?"

Barnes's head lolled in the head rest as his eyes rolled back in his head. Natasha's moral compass didn't always point exactly due North but even _she_ could see what was happening here was wrong. However unethical it may be, this still wasn't a rescue mission, Barnes had sort of put himself in this situation and Natasha had places to be. On good conscience she would be sure to tip off the CIA as soon as she made it out of this place. Steve would want to know about this, too.

The doctor gave a curt nod to the assistant the machine was activated. Shock therapy wasn't made to be an interrogation method. It was a crude form of cleansing the brain. The sick doctor didn't seem to care about that though.

Barnes's body quaked with convulsions as volts of electricity shot through his body. The doctor was wasting his time. It was obvious that Barnes had gone rogue. They had created a monster and now it was pissed and looking for it's Doctor Frankenstein. They wouldn't be able to contain the animal for long and once he broke free, Natasha kind of hoped he would finish what he'd started. _That's what these dumb bastards get._

"How did you find this place?"

Natasha sighed as she glanced at her watch. Where were those damn sirens already?

"A-agent..."

Natasha looked back through window in surprise. _He speaks._

"Agent...B-Bar..." Natasha stilled as Barnes's deep voice wavered. "_Barton_."

_...Barton_? He'd said Barton.

"You're lying. Agent Barton is dead. Again." He motioned to the technician and waves of electricity shocked Barnes's body.

Natasha curled her fists. Idiot! She watched in anger as waves of electricity shocked his body. She had to do something. Who knew what this trauma was doing to that man's memory. As his body spasmed she could see her answers slipping further and further away from her. This wasn't a rescue mission, damn it.

_But he'd said Barton._

Natasha wasn't usually impulsive but as she raised her gun and aimed for the doctor's head she knew she _had_ to do this.

The bullet pierced the glass window and flew into the doctor's skull. He crumpled to the ground and the sweaty assistant flew out the room with a shriek. Natasha ducked as the gunmen opened fire into the one way glass wall. The window shattered, sending shards of glass raining down as Natasha took cover beneath the desk in front of her.

Natasha could hear footsteps approaching from the left side of the desk. She kicked the filing cabinet forward and down upon the the gunman. Who still used filling cabinets anyways? As he struggled beneath the weight of the cabinet she sent several bullets through his head. She glanced around the desk as the two remaining agents continued to empty their M16s in her direction.

Natasha raised her gun and pointed at the ceiling light. It went out with one shot. She quickly shot out the operating table's light, too, and soon they were covered in darkness.

As the two men muttered nervously to each other and split up, Natasha silently crept around the desk. The only light came from the waves of electricity that continued to rack Barnes's body. She needed to switch off that machine and soon before the man's brain was entirely fried.

Natasha caught a movement to her left and pulled her trigger. His body thumped to the ground, leaving just one more to go. Natasha listened for the sound of crunching glass but he was quiet like her.

It was then that the siren system finally went into effect and the alarm in the ceiling of the small laboratory room illuminated the room in flashes of red light. She saw him before he saw her and she was quick to pull her trigger.

As his body hit the floor, Natasha tucked her guns back into their holsters and approached the operating table. She kicked at the tubes at the base of the table until they came loose and the electic pulses died away in crackles.

"Mr. Barnes, can you hear me?"

He wasn't looking too good. The skin of his heaving chest was glossed over with sweat and his dark hair stuck to his pale cheeks. She quickly checked his pulse as his eyes fluttered open and closed. His skin was clammy but his pulse was strong. It was surprising considering how many amps they had given him.

"Mr. Barnes," Natasha repeated as she moved the machine away from his head and went to unlatch the straps at his wrist.

Once she undid the first one she hesitated as she gave his shining bionic arm a look of doubt. She glanced up at his face; he looked severely drugged and didn't seem to be an immediate threat. Natasha was willing to risk unleashing his arm, at least for the moment.

Without further hesitation she undid the straps holding down the metal arm then moved down to his legs. She peeked up at him and watched with uncertainty as he raised the bionic arm and curled his fingers. He looked light-headed and confused as he observed the movements of his metallic fingers with half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. Natasha was beginning to worry she'd made a mistake in freeing that arm but it was too late for that now.

Flashing red lights danced across Natasha's hands as she quickly unstrapped his legs from the table. She glanced over her shoulder at the door just as she finished freeing him completely. They couldn't leave the way Natasha had came; Barnes most certainly was too large to squeeze into the ventilation system. They would have to find the underground tunnels that led to the sewer system.

With that decision made, Natasha reached into her pocket to retrieve her palm sized tablet and keyed through the navigation routes that would get them out of the building the fastest. The small screen indicated that there was an exit in the next lab over; no hostiles in that area. Thank God.

When she looked back to Barnes she found him pushing away from the table. He looked about ready to puke. Natasha caught him before he could topple over the operating table and hooked his arm over her shoulders. And the guy was _heavy_.

"We have to move now, Mr. Barnes. And you're going to have to help me."

She, of course, received no reply.

"Alright then, let's go.

* * *

"Did you receive the drive?" Natasha murmured into the phone at her ear as she swirled her glass of bourbon. Outside she could hear rain coming down hard on the small hill country roof. She'd used this safe house only once before tonight. It was best not to come to the same place _more_ than once really but she didn't have too many options at this point.

"Yes...did you find what you were looking for?"

"This line isn't secure."

It _was_ secure actually. Natasha wouldn't have made the call if it wasn't. But Agent Hill didn't know that Natasha was harboring a terrorist who at that moment was laying unconscious in the master bedroom of the three bed, two bath country house. So it was better to keep things brief.

"We will be in touch."

It hadn't been easy lugging that big guy through the sewer system. He weighed _a lot_. And getting him in out of the car had been a challenge. But despite all of that, Natasha was pretty sure she had yet to face the _hard_ part.

As she ended the call a loud thump echoed from the back of the house. Natasha placed the cell phone on the table and reached for the sawed off shot gun. It was the only weapon she could find in the dusty place. Sure, she had her glocks but there was something threatening about a shot gun. The heavy metal of the gun dragged across the wooden table as she pushed her chair back and stood.

More noise came from the master bedroom as Natasha quietly left the parlor and made her way to the back of the small house with the shotty thrown over her shoulder. It sounded like he was _breaking_ something.

When she reached the door she pulled the gun into a firing position, took a deep breath and listened for any sound on the other side of the door. The racket had stopped and was replaced with a deathly silence. She could only hear the rain from outside.

Natasha nudged the door open with the barrel of the shotgun. The room was dark and the bed was rumpled and empty. She flipped the light switch by the door but the bedroom remained shrouded in shadows. It was safe to say the electricity was out. It was the damn storm.

She didn't see his large figure crowding the bathroom doorway to the right of the bed until a burst of lightning flashed through the curtains at the window. Her heart jumped in her chest as the flare of light washed over his features. His dark eyes were entirely focused on Natasha with a look of calculating distrust. He looked nothing like the delirious man from the operating table. The man in the room with her now was awake and alert. One word echoed through her mind in that moment;

Predator.

Natasha's skin crawled as the room was once again cloaked in darkness and he resumed the form of a looming shadow in the bathroom doorway. Her instincts told her to get out of there. Her training told her the same thing.

This man was a dangerous threat and even worse he was unpredictable. If Barnes chose to react to her presence with hostility and aggression, she was sorely outmatched. Barnes was capable of hurting her without hesitation; she had the bullet holes to prove it. Sure, she had a few tricks up her sleeve but if this man wanted to, her could crush her skull with a single flex of his arm. And she wasn't even referring to the metal one.

Natasha partially worried she was wasting her time with Barnes. His memory hadn't been the best _before_ tonight and after all the electricity she'd seen injected through his skull, she wouldn't be surprised if didn't remember his own name. She really didn't know what she would be dealing with here. He was a wild card.

But Natasha needed something that was in that brain of his. _He'd said Barton. _She would need to play this carefully. In order to gain his cooperation she would need to earn his trust. And the first step in earning trust was _displaying_ trust.

So Natasha lowered the shotgun to her side carefully. Hell no, she didn't trust this guy. But she could pretend.

"My name is Natalie Rushman. Would you like a drink?"


	2. Chapter 2: The Parlor

_Chapter 2: The Parlor_

Natasha kept any signs of uneasiness from her posture as she went to retrieve a glass from the stack of tumblers at the bar. She didn't want Barnes to see her as a threat and even more importantly, she didn't want him to know that she saw _him_ as a threat.

She'd even set the shotgun on the table, less than an arm's reach from the armchair he was slouched in. Of course, if he wanted to hurt her, he certainly didn't need some old, sawed-off shot gun to do it. Thus far he had actually been very docile and had followed her wordlessly into the dim parlor.

His silence somewhat bothered Natasha. It made her really wonder what was going on in his head. She watched from the corner of her eye as he slowly rubbed his hands up and down the upholstered arms of the chair. She could feel him watching her in return, catching her every move like a carnivore studying it's prey.

Natasha wondered if he could make out the outline of the small handgun she had tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. She had changed from her fitted black uniform and into dry clothes before she had made the phone call with Agent Hill. Not just because the suit was wet but she also thought it may not the best idea to keep a pair of Glocks strapped to her thighs in plain view.

"Now, before we get started Mr. Barnes," Natasha murmured, returning to the table with a glass and the bottle of bourbon in hand. "You should know that there are a number of people out there who want you dead. The ones that _don't_ want you dead, want to use you. Those are the ones to worry about."

She glanced up at him as she poured a few fingers of Bourbon into the glittering glass. "I'm neither of those people."

Again, a flash of lightning spilled into the dark space, bathing his features in a brief white glare. Natasha caught a glimpse of a dimpled chin, dark stubble and mean, blue eyes before he was once more blanketed in shadows.

Natasha slid the glass towards him across the wooden table as she picked up her own and took a sip. His shadowed eyes moved from the glass to her face and she raised an eyebrow.

"Were you hoping for vodka?"

_Natasha_ had been hoping for vodka but then again, she was Russian. She took a step back and leaned against the mantle of the fireplace as she watched him. Perhaps he was contemplating if the drink was poisoned. That would be rather counterproductive on her part.

Satisfaction washed over Natasha when finally Barnes slowly reached forward and took the glass with his bionic hand. He hesitated when the glass quickly began to crack. Natasha grew still as the glass continued to violently splinter from strain within his powerful grip. Was he unable to control his strength? It broke suddenly, crushing into pieces in his wide hand.

Barnes took a deep breath in and slowly out, as broken glass and liquor spilled between his fingers. With another flash of lightning she saw his bare chest rise and fall heavily. He looked like he was growing dizzy as his red-rimmed eyes ran over the gleaming arm and flexed his metal hand.

"What..._am_ I?"

His rough voice was unsettling, just barely audible above the sound of pouring rain from outside. Natasha pursed her lips as she chose how to answer his question. She felt he wasn't actually asking _her_ but she was the only other person in the entire house.

"You _were_ a government investment and now you're a government threat." She could see his eyes grow darker at her words.

"Mr. Barnes," she began as she set her drink on the fireplace mantel. His gaze didn't meet hers but instead wandered away, disappearing somewhere in his thoughts.

"James," she tried again. Barnes flinched like she had made a sudden, loud noise and his startled eyes flew up to her face. So he _did_ know his name.

"Why did you attempt to infiltrate Hydra tonight?"

His bloodshot eyes drifted away from Natasha again and began to dim as he went back to rubbing his hands on the arm-chair. For a moment she thought she was losing him but then, finally he whispered one word.

"...Karpov_."_

It wasn't a word, it was a _name. _And it belonged to a Soviet General from the 1940s who had created Department X and initiated the Winter Soldier program. She hadn't done extensive research into the program but she'd learned enough to know that Karpov was long dead. It explained who Barnes had been asking for in the corridor tonight but it wasn't the name Natasha needed.

"Is that how you received your intel, James?" She prodded as she moved towards the table with crossed arms. "Is he the reason you are in Harrisburg? Or was it someone _else_?"

"Karpov," he muttered again and she could see he was getting away from her again. His hands began to claw at the upholstery as he furrowed his brow. "Karpov..._who is_ _Karpov_..."

"Hey, focus." Natasha tapped two knuckles on the table. "There was man named _Clint, Barton_." She enunciated his name slowly and clearly. His eyes drifted up to hers and she nodded slowly. "Yeah, you know that name don't you?"

Barnes began to shake his head and looked away from her. He dragged a twitching hand through his hair and his squinted eyes took on a glazed look. Natasha could see that his mind was _malfunctioning; _the amnesia was weighing him down. She needed to know his limits so she could begin setting parameters for herself. She just needed to push him to the right point.

"_No_. I don't...everything is gone..." His eyes darted around frantically, as if searching for something in the air. "I can't..."

"Yes you _can_." She pushed as she leaned over the table. "Tell me what you know about Agent Barton. "

"I don't know...it's Karpov-"

"No!" She raised her voice. "General Vasily Karpov has no affiliation with Clint Barton because he has been _dead_ for _70 years_. Now, _why_ are you lying to me James?"

Natasha knew Barnes wasn't lying though; she just wanted him to dig deeper.

Barnes flew to his feet suddenly, startling Natasha and the armchair fell backwards behind him. With a snarl he threw the table sideways and it smashed into splintered pieces against the wall to the right. _Volatile_.

His eyes remained on Natasha as he balled his fists and took in heavy breaths. She acknowledged that she had pushed him a little too far and noted that he reacted with aggression when under pressure. After dealing with Banner, Barnes's temper shouldn't have seemed so daunting as it did in that moment. But there was something feral and unrecognizable in his darkened eyes.

"I don't _remember,_" he growled slowly between clenched teeth. She believed him. And she was starting to realize that his memory loss was more extensive than she knew.

"Well, we are going to fix that." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and took her drink from the mantle. "I know a neurologist in Philadelphia who can help you."

Barnes tilted his head suddenly, the way she had seen him do before and looked towards the window curtains. He was so easily distracted.

The glass of Bourbon in her hand suddenly exploded. Natasha instinctively dropped to her belly on the floor as several bullets broke through the windows and flew into the small parlor.

They had been found.

The sound of shattering glass and thumping boots against hard wood flooring told Natasha they were in the house. She pulled the small handgun from her large hoodie and looked down the hall just as shadowed figures began to spill into the living room. Barnes turned his head in that direction too, as a tense line of aggression drew across his broad shoulders and his metal fist clenched into a ball.

As a man leaped through the parlor window Natasha caught him the chest with a bullet. She jumped to her feet just as another figure appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She pulled her trigger several times in his direction but he ducked from her shots and charged towards her. She sidestepped around him and kicked the back of his knees before sending a bullet through the base of his skull.

Natasha had lost track of Barnes during the scuffle and glanced back to see that he was no longer in the trashed parlor. Well, wherever he had disappeared to, she was quite sure he could handle his own.

Natasha rushed into the tiny kitchen with her gun raised and snatched her backpack off the counter. As she flung it over her shoulder, she just narrowly dodged a round house kick aimed for her stomach. She instead felt her gun knocked loose from her grip.

She swiped a cutting knife from the counter and crouched down as the shadowed attacker moved around her in the dark. Before he could make another lunge for her, she swung the heavy backpack around, catching the assailant right in his face. As he fell backwards, she drove her knife into his back and left it there.

Natasha vaulted over the kitchen table and hurried into the living room. She found discarded bodies scattered around the wood floors and the front door was pulled wide open.

Natasha stepped out onto the porch to find Barnes beating the living daylights out of a man in the yard. She hurried down the steps and into the rain as Barnes shoved the man into the grass and looked around for someone else to pummel. It seemed that was the last of them.

She then noticed the armored truck behind her own car in the drive way. She would have heard the truck's engine if it weren't for the loud rain. She realized Barnes had heard it as she recalled his distracted look from before.

Natasha made her way into the gravel drive way and stepped around the silver Toyota to discover the rubber tires were completely flat. They had shot out her tires!? Well, they weren't really _her_ tires; she had borrowed them. Well, she hadn't exactly _borrowed_ the car.

They would just have to take the armored truck.

"Come one, we have to get out of here," Natasha called to Barnes as she walked across the wet gravel to the driver's side of the armored truck. She tossed her backpack in the cab of the truck and intended to climb into the driver's seat but didn't get the chance.

Natasha gasped as she felt herself being yanked off her feet. She realized too late that Barnes and picked her up over his shoulder. His arm was too strong to fight against and kept her firmly pinned in place.

"What are you-!?"

Barnes tossed her into the back of the armored truck and her back hit the metal bed. His hard eyes locked onto hers as he began to pull down the door and she lurched forward.

"Hey!" Natasha barked as the door slammed shut and she was suddenly immersed in complete darkness. She banged on the metal door with her palm as the sound of crunching gravel made it's way to the front of the truck. Moments later, the engine revved to life.

What was he _doing_? She rocked forwards, hitting her head against the metal, as the truck began to move. Where was he _going_? Natasha clambered towards the cab end of the truck as she felt the tires bumping along uneven gravel road. She considered banging on the back of the cab with her fists but she was pretty sure it would be pointless.

So Natasha brought her knees to her chest and rocked silently in dark as he drove her to God knows where. Her clothes eventually started to dry and her hair began to curl around her face as she pondered her situation. Barnes hadn't attacked her and he hadn't left her behind at the house.

Apparently James Barnes had decided at some point that _Natalie Rushman_ was worth keeping around.


	3. Chapter 3: Clint's

_Chapter 3: Clint's_

When the truck pulled to a stop, Natasha's legs were asleep. She massaged the stiffness from them as the driver's door opened and closed loudly. They had been driving for somewhere close to an hour and a half.

After a few moments, the back door slid up and dim light spilled into the bed, partially blocked by Barnes's silhouette. He tossed Natasha's backpack towards her and it skidded across the metal bed until stopping at her feet.

"Where are we?" Natasha asked as she stood and slung the bag over her shoulders.

It had stopped raining. Over his shoulder she could see a sleepy street cluttered with telephone poles and beaten down apartments. They were the type of apartments with garbage cans right out front, doors with peeling paint, crumbling steps and heavily barred windows. From the looks of it, they were somewhere in Philadelphia. If she had to guess she would say South Philly.

A street lamp flickered above Natasha's head as she dropped down onto the wet asphalt. She stepped around the armored truck to look up at the building they were parked in front of. It was definitely abandoned. The doors were all boarded up and the dirty, graffiti marked windows were cracked.

"I'm not sure," Barnes replied as he pulled the truck door back down and brushed past her. Natasha narrowed her eyes at his back as he left her behind on the curb.

"You _look_ like you know where you're going," she said as she trailed after him and passed the spiked fence into the untamed grass and gravel of the front yard.

"I don't," he stopped at the top of the steps before the front door and looked down at her. "I've seen your face before."

Natasha raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"And it was here."

His memory of her must have been overlapping with another because, while he'd certainly seen her before, it wasn't _here_.

"I've never been here in my life," Natasha peered around at the thicket of weeds and broken bricks lying around in the small yard. She tucked her hands in her hoodie pocket and shrugged. "It's just some condemned building."

Barnes narrowed his eyes at her and turned to the door. "You were here."

As he began to yank at the planks of wood that boarded up the front door Natasha wandered around the corner of the building, looking for a window to climb through. Most of them were blocked by plywood boards. She found one above a trashcan that was a bit higher than rest but un-boarded. She grabbed a nearby brick and sent it flying through the dirty glass.

Natasha flung her backpack through the broken window first before climbing on top of the trashcan and carefully leaping onto the jagged ledge. She dropped down into the dark building and dust bloomed from the old, creaky floorboards around her feet. The smell of musty wood and mildew filled her nose and she could hear the sound of rainwater dripping from the ceiling nearby.

As she kneeled down to rifle through the backpack on floor for her flashlight, the sound of a bursting door echoed from downstairs. Well, Barnes had made his way in as well.

After Natasha found the flashlight, she zipped the bag up and swung it back over her shoulders. When she clicked the flashlight on, her eyes met warped, old wallpaper, moldy floorboards and dusty pieces of broken furniture. The building looked the same on the inside as it did on the outside; abandoned.

As Natasha ran the flashlight along the grimy wooden floors of the room and water damaged ceilings that were falling apart, she figured the building to be an old apartment complex. She stepped out of the room and shined the flashlight down the hall of cobwebs and dirt. Yep, definitely an apartment building; the doors had chipped numbers on them.

What the hell were they doing here? They weren't going to find anything but empty beer bottles, rodent feces and maybe some half smoked joints the local teens had left behind.

Natasha suddenly flinched at a movement to her left and whipped around with a gasp.

It was just Barnes.

He squinted and raised his hand to his pale eyes as Natasha blinded him with her flashlight. Damn, he was _quiet_. She lowered the light and crossed her arms expectantly.

"It's a real nice place you got. You bring all the girls here or am I special?"

Barnes gave he a weird look and Natasha could almost _see_ her sarcasm go right over his head.

"This way," he murmured, moving past her towards the stairs.

Natasha followed behind him _reluctantly_ as he proceeded up the uneven stair case. The abandoned complex was eery and Barnes's company wasn't entirely comforting.

She could admit that she was a bit less weary of him than before, now that he was forming complete sentences and still hadn't tried to kill her. That was always a good sign. But Natasha knew there was something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. Something that told her to _handle with caution._

Barnes continued higher and higher until they reached the final landing. He moved down the hallway slowly as Natasha shined the flashlight on each door number. _501, 502, 503...509._ He came to a stop before the last door in the hallway.

"This is it."

_510_. Natasha reached for the doorknob but Barnes suddenly caught her wrist. She looked up at him questioningly to find his face serious with concentration. He glanced down at her.

"Don't you hear that?" He asked.

She squinted at him in confusion then leaned forward to press her ear to the door. A low hum resonated quietly from the other side the door. It sounded like the dull workings of a computer system...or a _security_ system. What the hell?

Natasha was suddenly glad for Barnes's interference because it would probably have been a very _bad_ idea to turn that doorknob.

Natasha glanced over the door's framing, looking for another way of entry. Barnes scratched at his stubble thoughtfully as he moved away from the door and along the wall in inspection. Natasha's attention returned to the _510_ number plate. It was about a foot higher than her head...wait. She slid aside the number plate and found a tiny flashing light.

It was a _retina scanner_.

"Hey," Natasha gestured at Barnes to come over and pointed at the scanner. He looked to be the perfect height for retina scanner and Natasha doubted it was a coincidence. "Look into this."

Barnes gave her a curious look as he approached the door and caught sight of the scanner. He stepped forward and squinted through the hole, unaware as a small red line of light ran across his eye and a click came from behind the door. When he turned the knob to the door, it came open easily.

Barnes stepped inside and Natasha followed him through the door and into the apartment. As she ran her flashlight along the wall to left and found a light switch, she noticed the dank smell of the hallway wasn't present in here. She flicked it on and glanced around the lit apartment in surprise.

"_Is_ this your place?" Natasha asked in confusion.

Unlike the rest of the condemned building, it was taken care of and in perfectly good shape. It looked like any city loft, with a small kitchenette that didn't look too used and a living room with simple furniture. There wasn't much décor to speak of and it was so neat that it looked nearly military. There must have been a generator somewhere in the apartment running the place.

"...no." Barnes replied as he wandered towards the back of the apartment, disapearing. Natasha went to the refrigerator; she was _starving_.

There was next to nothing in the fridge with the exception of the half eaten take-out box and several beer bottles. Well _someone_ lived here. She went through the cabinets as well and only found coffee grinds, some canned soups and close to a dozen MRE packages. Yep. Military.

Natasha set down the flashlight, tore open one of the MRE meals and pulled out a package of crackers. As Natasha snacked on the dry crackers she left the kitchenette and stepped into the living room. No TV. Just a plain sofa set and a coffee table. The only thing out of place in the simple apartment was the plywood boards nailed to the windows.

_Someone_ didn't want to be found.

Since there wasn't much else to see there, Natasha passed through the living room with a few glances and went into the hallway Barnes had disappeared in.

There was a door on the left and Natasha pushed it open to find a clean bathroom. Down the hall, light spilled from the bedroom and Natasha made her way to the open door way. She found Barnes had pulled open all the dresser's drawers (they were all empty) and was making his way to the closet. Natasha wondered if he was searching for something in particular or just exploring. Although the security system had authorized his entry, he'd said this wasn't his place.

The bedroom was nondescript, like the rest of the place, and had a neatly made, low-platform bed with a short nightstand beside it. The lamp on the nightstand bathed the room in soft yellow light and to the other side of the bed, Natasha spotted a waterproof case as she finished off the crackers. She dusted her hands on her jeans, dropped to her knees to unlatch the dark green shipping case. After digging through it, she found more MREs, a few canteens and neatly folded clothing.

"Are you sure this isn't your place?" Natasha murmured as she held up a simple, grey t-shirt. Everything in the case was simple, dark and too big to fit a woman. Whoever lived here, was a man. Well at least Barnes could put on a damn shirt now.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at Barnes and did a double take. He had slid the closet door open. The forgotten shirt slipped from her fingers as she climbed to her feet and drew towards the opened closet. Holy _shit_.

Beyond the opened closet door was a _storage room_ lined with racks upon racks of artillery and even more shipping cases. The closet wasn't a closet at all but a damn _bunker_. Barnes stepped into the room and Natasha followed after him.

Natasha's eyes ran over the rows of guns with uneasiness as she walked around the table in the middle of the closet. Just who the hell lived here? Her gaze dropped to the laptop on the table and she immediately pulled it open.

As she booted it up, she glanced up at Barnes to see he had found a stash of knives in one of the crates on a shelf. She felt a little disturbed as she watched him flip the knife in his hand in curiosity.

When the plain home screen opened up, Natasha was surprised there hadn't been a lock screen to restrict her access but went right to work anyways. After just a few minutes she soon learned it was unlocked only because there was nothing to find. The hard drive had been wiped _completely_ clean and it had been done professionally. Damn it.

"Whoever lives here is gone now and he knew how to cover his tracks," Natasha sighed, closing the laptop in defeat.

"Not entirely."

Natasha looked up to find Barnes was holding out a photograph for her to take. She took the photograph from his fingers and blinked down at it in confusion. A young woman in a black dress frowned back at her in the photograph.

Natasha's eyes widened in shock as she realized who this photograph belonged to...and who this apartment belonged to.

The woman in the picture was Natasha._ I've seen yuor face before_ he'd said. He'd seen her picture.

"That son of a bitch," Natasha whispered as a tiny smile pulled at her lips.

This was _Clint's_ place.

And he was very much _alive_ despite all data records to the contrary. Damn it, she knew it!

What the hell was he doing here in Philadelphia? Natasha recalled the take-out box in the fridge; Clint had left _recently_ and in a hurry. Why else would he leave so much behind? Natasha had just barely missed him and probably by less than twelve hours.

Barnes continued to go through the shelves as Natasha withdrew from the storage closet and went to sit on the bed as her eyes ran over the small photograph between her fingers. Why was Clint hiding out here and what was he planning? Barnes was somehow involved, that much was clear. Did Clint know Natasha was searching for him?

Natasha rubbed her tired eyes she stared at the photo, feeling utterly mystified. And exhausted. She took a deep breath and stood from the bed, deciding now was a good time to catch a shower. It wouldn't be the same as that hot bath she had been hoping for but it would still clear her head.

* * *

Natasha was sitting on the bathroom counter, smoothing a band-aid over her knee when Barnes opened the door _without_ knocking and stepped into the steamy bathroom. She would have locked the door if there _was_ a lock. Although she didn't appreciate the blatant disregard of her privacy, she was at least dressed. She'd stolen a t-shirt and pair of gym sweats from Clint's storage case and although they were too big for her, they were clean.

Barnes was either oblivious to, or ignoring her disbelieving look. He slapped a file down on the bathroom counter beside her and pointed at it.

"Why does he have this?"

Natasha tucked her wet hair behind her ear as she leaned over and ran her eyes over the open file. **James Buchanan Barnes**. It was _his_ file. Why _did_ Clint have that? It was further proof that Barnes and Clint were somehow tied together.

"You tell me. _You_ brought _me_ here."

Natasha crumpled up the band-aid wrappers as she hopped down from the counter and tossed them in the trash. She pushed her pant leg down from where it had been rolled up above her knee cap and straightened.

His attention was no longer on her as he scratched at his stubble and stared at the file with bunched eyebrows.

"By the way the next time you feel the urge to kidnap me," Natasha closed the medicine cabinet loudly and his eyes raised to hers. "D_on't_." Her ass still hurt from sitting in that rigid truck bed.

Barnes stared at her a long moment and Natasha studied him in return as she placed her hand on the counter's edge. He didn't look so threatening standing bare-chested and mask-less in a well lit, damp bathroom that smelled like axe body soap. He was just a man.

If it weren't for the _eyes_.

Natasha remembered thinking his eyes were mean but they weren't. They weren't _anything_. She couldn't quite place her finger on it but there was something un-perceptive about Barnes. It was almost like his pale blue eyes lacked an emotional awareness. Maybe it had been washed out of him completely.

Natasha could relate.

"I want you to take me to your neurologist," he finally said.

Natasha was pleased by his show of cooperation and nodded slowly.

"I'll have to make some calls." Natasha needed some sleep, too. "Shower's all yours." She stepped around Barnes to leave the bathroom and felt her arm barely brush the cool metal of his own. It didnt feel normal to be in such close quarters with something so dangerous. The sooner there was some space between them, Natasha would feel a little better.

"Miss Rushman?"

"Yeah?" Natasha turned around and raised her eyes to his. She felt the wide collar of the shirt slide down her skin as she leaned up against the bathroom doorway. His eyes fell over her bare shoulder and Natasha shivered because she knew what he was looking at.

The _scar_.

It wasn't the only mark Barnes left on her but of course _he_ didn't know that.

"Who are you?"

Natasha hadn't expected that. Her eyes drew down to the file on the bathroom counter. The clean shaven young man in the old photograph looked like the kind of guy a teenage girl dreamed of one day taking home to meet her parents. That man was long gone now.

Natasha knew that if they were able to recover Barnes's memory, he wasn't going to like what he found. And maybe it would make him more dangerous. But again; she could relate.

"I'm a lot like you."

Natasha pulled the shirt up over her shoulder, hiding the year old scar, and pushed away from the doorway.

"Exept I remember the things I've done."


	4. Chapter 4: The Phone Call

_Chapter 4: The Phone Call_

When Natasha woke up, Barnes was gone.

Natasha wasn't sure if she would rest well, knowing that a man of _dubious_ character could take advantage of their current living situation if he wanted to. So she had kept her gun in the waistband of her gym pants. For good measure. Before crawling into Clint's bed, Natasha had decided that if Barnes felt the _need_ to sleep he would just have to crash on the couch in the living room.

And with that decision made, she had surprisingly fallen asleep the moment her head had touched the pillows. But after climbing from the bed and venturing into the living room she had discovered an empty couch and found herself obviously alone in the small apartment.

_Unbelievable_.

Natasha was pissed that he had wasted her time but more importantly he had left her with unanswered questions. Barnes was her only way of finding Clint and now he was _gone_. And where the hell to? Natasha had no idea.

With nothing left to do, Natasha returned to the bedroom and prepared to leave. The digital clock on the nightstand said it was already late afternoon. She hadn't gone to sleep until the early hours of the morning but was still surprised that she had slept for so long.

As she zipped up the fly to her jeans she glanced around the small apartment and decided to do a comb-through before leaving the place. After tossing on a grey sweatshirt and tucking her gun into the back of her jeans, she retreated into Clint's weapon closet to do some investigating.

Natasha went to the files on the shelves first, assuming that was where Barnes had found his. There were a lot to go through so she took the perforated crates of documents down, one by one and brought them to the table. Natasha placed her hands on her hips as she looked at the table, now cluttered with documents. She would need caffeine for this.

Natasha took a seat at the table a little bit later with a mug of bitter, black coffee in hand and set to work.

A lot of the documents were old and things she already knew. She came across over a dozen classified files, mostly, on notable Hydra operatives and a few national anomalies like the incidents in New York and New Mexico.

When she came across a folder of Pennsylvania's anomaly records she expected to find something interesting but instead there was only a printed picture of what looked to be a _cave_. She folded up the black and white print-out and put it to the side before continuing to pour over the documents.

Natasha was surprised to find even files on the Avengers Initiative but thankfully she didn't find one on her. She began to realize there wasn't any documentation of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, past or present. Stark, Banner, the Asgardians; they were all here but nothing on S.H.I.E.L.D. Not even the Cap was here.

Hours passed as she skimmed through each file hoping to find evidence of Clints mysterious whereabouts. By time she was finished, she was left with more questions than answers and still failed to find any correlation between Barnes and Clint.

Natasha rubbed her forehead in aggravation as she stood from the chair and looked around at the scatter of _meaningless_ documents and records. This wasn't going to work. They were nothing more than useless papers.

Her closest bet to finding out what the hell was going on with Clint had walked right out the door and she had let him. Why had she assumed he would stay? Damn it! Once again Natasha had ran head first into another dead end and this one was all on her

Natasha tended to give off the impression that she was a very unaffected and unfeeling woman. But the truth, the _secret, _was that she _did_ have emotions. For instance, right now she felt the urge to shove everything off the table and and kick over the chair. Maybe flip the table over as well.

But the thing about Natasha Romanoff was that she was very good at containing those feelings. So instead she closed her eyes and placed her hands flat on the table.

Natasha took a deep breath.

So here was what she _did_ know; Clint was alive. A week ago, she had no proof of this so she _was_ getting somewhere. She could track Barnes. And even if she couldn't find that flaky bastard, well, she would just have to return to this very table and read through these documents again. She would read each one ten times through if she had to.

Look closer. Try harder. _Do better._

Natasha didn't know what Clint had done to get these files and why he had them at all. She was willing to bet she would have found even more incriminating documents on his laptop if it hadn't all been erased. She returned to the laptop a second time, putting forth more effort but still; it was empty. She considered taking it with her but decided against it. She didn't need the extra weight on her back.

So, finally she abandoned the table and began to look through Clint's weapons cases. They contained more fire power that Natasha didn't necessarily need but she did find a useful crate of ammo.

The only solid evidence of Clint's manifestation in the apartment was the small photograph of herself and it was tucked safely in the deep crevices of her backpack. There wasn't much else here worth bringing along.

If Clint ever came back to this place he would know someone had gone through his things. Natasha moved her hair over her shoulder and unclasped the necklace around her neck. She looked down at the small arrow pendant in her palm a little woefully before placing it in the center of the table.

Now Clint would know it was her.

With one final glance over the room, Natasha shut off the light and closed the closet door behind her.

Natasha proceeded to the bathroom with her bag in hand and opened up the medicine cabinet. Without hesitation, she tucked away the small first-aid kit and the brown bottle of peroxide then began to sort through the rest. She came across more than a few questionable drugs; lidocaine, propofol, pentobarnital, isoflurane..._what the hell Clint? _She stashed a few she found useful before closing the cabinet and set for the kitchen to make herself another pot of coffee.

As she waited for her coffee Natasha pulled out her phone and to make a call she had been putting off. She glanced at her watch to find it was nearly four in the morning. Maybe he wouldn't pick up.

"What's wrong?"

Natasha couldn't really blame him for thinking she would only call because she was in some kind of trouble. They hadn't spoken in close to half a year and even then, it had been no more than a few muttered words of warning. She made _herself_ hard to reach by calling from blocked numbers, keeping her address in a constant state of change, and slipping from alias to alias monthly...but still a "_hey, how are you"_ wouldn't have been so hard to fit in.

"_Nothing_ Steve," Natasha sighed as she poured herself a mug of black coffee. "Hey listen, you got a minute to talk?"

"Of course, just one...hold on..."

Natasha listened to the sound of muffled voices on the other end and hopped up on the counter as she waited. She wondered what time zone he was in. Moments later his voice rang clearly through the cell phone.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But there's something you should know." Natasha delayed for a moment as she and stared down into her bitter coffee. Steve waited patently on the other end. Well it was best to just get it over with.

"I found him."

He was silent for a few moments.

"...is he alive?" His voice was cautious and guarded. Natasha could see where his thoughts where going; by saying she found him she could have also been saying she found his _body_.

"Yeah. He's fine," Natasha said quickly as she set her coffee down. "But he's been wiped clean again. He doesn't know me. Or you or _anything_. I'm telling you this Steve because you have the right to know."

"Has he tried to hurt you?"

"No. But I think he still might be dangerous. He actually..." She scratched her forehead a moment. "...kind of ran off on me but I promise I'm going find-"

Natasha froze when she heard a click come from the door.

_Clint_.

Or...maybe not Clint? Natasha rolled over the counter and dropped to the floor quietly.

"Natasha where are you?" Steve asked in her ear as she pulled the gun from the back of her jeans and peeked around the edge of the counter.

"I'm going to have to call you back Steve," Natasha whispered quickly.

"Don't-"

Natasha ended the call and tucked the phone into her back pocket just as the door opened. She watched as a large man in a baseball cap and drawn up hood stepped into the apartment. He pulled back his hood and Natasha's eyes widened.

It was _Barnes_.

"Well, where the hell were have_ you _been?" Natasha asked as she stood from her hiding spot and lowered her gun.

Barnes tossed her a set of keys and she caught them with a look of suspicion. She tucked her gun back into her jeans as she looked down at the keys in her hand.

"Out."

Natasha blinked up at him unable to discern the feeling that was suddenly washing over her. It was unfamiliar and strange. It was the feeling of _lack of control. _Barnes had left her floundering and that wasn't sitting well with Natasha.

Natasha decided right then that she would pin a tracker on him. She couldn't afford to lose such an important asset. And this _ass_et would not being calling the shots around here.

Natasha eyed him as she walked around the counter to grab the forgotten mug of coffee. He'd commandeered some of Clint's clothes. The dark jacket seemed a little too snug for his broad shoulders and the black T underneath looked stretched to it's limit across his chest. Natasha had only ever seen him strapped in black leather or bare chested. He looked strangely younger in _real boy_ clothes.

"Were you worried that I had left you behind?" He asked behind her back as she poured the bitter coffee down the drain and pressed her lips together.

There was something slightly, faintly_, just barely,_ smug about the question. She looked over her shoulder to see if he was smirking. He wasn't even in the slightest. Maybe she'd imagined it.

"Nope," Natasha replied, as she set the empty cup in the sink. As if she would ever admit to something like that. She shouldered her backpack and turned to him expectantly.

"Lets go."

* * *

Outside of the abandoned apartment building a gleaming BMW awaited them on the curb.

"The truck?" Natasha asked as they approached the car and she unlocked the doors.

Natasha was unhappy to discover it had rained again and her canvas sneakers weren't holding up well against the cold puddles. She was also unhappy that Barnes was letting her drive. Not because she didn't _want_ to drive but because he was _letting _her. As though it were a privilege he was allowing her.

"Taken care of."

Natasha pictured Barnes heaving the truck over a cliff and smirked at her imagination as she climbed into car. It smelled new. Barnes caught her look as he slid into the passenger seat and she started up the car.

"You could have stolen something less conspicuous," she muttered, adjusting the mirror. The BMW seemed very out of place in the run down neighborhood that reflected back at her.

As Natasha pulled onto the street she glanced over to see Barnes opening the glove compartment. She was beginning to notice he had a curious nature about him.

In a display of boldness, Natasha reached across his lap and into glove compartment. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him stiffen but she played oblivious. So, Barnes had a thing for personal space. She would have to remember that.

There was something in Natasha that demanded dominance at all times and the more you knew about a person, the more control you had over them. Knowledge was power and all that.

Natasha pulled out a cigar from the compartment and held it up.

"Not Cuban but still worth keeping," she said watching him.

Natasha noticed for the first time that he didn't look too hot. He actually looked kind of sick. His eyes seemed more blood-shot than before and he was looking a little on the pale side. She wondered if he had eaten or slept at all.

Barnes took the cigar from her and sniffed it before tucking it into his jacket.

Natasha didn't necessarily feel _guilty_ for stealing things that didn't belong to her. But she sometimes found it was just easier to imagine her alleged victims as the type of people who _had it coming._

Natasha imagined the owner of this BMW to be a business man in his fifties. He had a wife and a couple of grown kids and every Sunday they got together for church and lunch afterwards.

But every Tuesday he had his lunch with some young thing at the hotel about a block for his job. That's what the cigars were for. He'd rather have his wife fuss about his smoking than for her to catch the scent of another woman's perfume. There was probably a bottle of Viagra in there somewhere.

He'd had it coming.

"And this?" Barnes's voice lifted Natasha from her thoughts.

She glanced over at Barnes almost weary of what he had found now. But it was just a metal lighter. She looked up at his face questioningly.

"What is it?" He clarified.

Natasha smiled as she turned her gaze back to the street.

"Oh, come on. You're not _that_ old."

How old was Barnes anyways? She squinted at him as he opened the lighter and his eyes flashed at the tiny flame.

"Zippo lighters have been around since the 30's," she said in bewilderment and turned her gaze to the road.

_He should know what that is._

Unless...his brain was so severely damaged that his memory was selective. It was clear that Barnes's wasn't entirely empty. He knew how to speak. He knew how to drive. He could obviously steal. And was quite good at killing. But if he was missing fundamental pieces, they were looking at more than just amnesia.

Barnes tucked the lighter into his jacket as well, unaware of the worried looks Natasha was currently shooting his way. He reached back into the glove compartment and retrieved a bible and begin to flip through it.

"Huh," Natasha murmured turning her attention back to the street. "So I called around last night and found the hospital our doc is working at these days. Are you still up for this?"

"Why else would I be here?" He asked raising his eyes from the bible.

If it were to come from any other mouth Natasha would take his words as unneccessary sass. But coming from him, it sounded like an honest inquiry.

"Alright. Well, he won't be in for another few hours," Natasha said as she glanced at the clock on the dashboard then at Barnes.

"You hungry?"

**A/N: I'm trying to keep this fic author note free for the most part but I have been getting some super constructive reviews lately. So I just wanted to stop and say thank you guys so much for the help. I love to hear what you all think about the character development and the direction the plot is headed. You have a greater influence than you realize.**

**Also, I'm kind of notorious for misspellings. I have always had trouble catching grammar issues, no matter how many times I proof read. I guess I just have a blind eye for it. So if you happen upon a grammar issue please message me. I would really appreciate it. Anyways, have a happy tide!**

**-Happy**


	5. Chapter 5: The Diner

Chapter 5: The Diner

The neon-red sign glared through the droplets on the windshield as they pulled into the 24-hour diner a little bit later. Natasha stepped from the car and an icy puddle awaited her, soaking straight through the soles of her sneakers. The damp air was thick around her with the smell of fried food and rainwater. It made her stomach growl.

Natasha glanced over at Barnes as she shut the door behind her. "Have you ever had a real Philly cheesesteak, James?"

"I'm from Brooklyn."

"I thought you were born in Indiana."

Barnes stepped onto the curb and looked back at Natasha as dark hair blew into his puzzled face.

"I read your file years ago," Natasha said in explanation as she joined him on the sidewalk. She peered a little closer at his face for a reaction but his face gave her nothing. He tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders deeper into his jacket. "Does that bother you?" She asked.

"Why should it?"

Natasha wasn't sure what made him do it, but Barnes reached forward and held the door open for her. From the bland look on his face, he didn't seem to think he was doing anything strange. It was like something he was doing it out of muscle memory. _One second he's tossing her into the back of a truck, the next he's opening doors for her._ She would never get this guy.

Natasha stepped into the small diner and glanced around.

A waitress slouched behind the counter gossiped quietly into a telephone as she twisted the curly, phone-wire around her polished fingernails. Somewhere in the retro diner, a jukebox was playing some Bob Dylan song. It was just a murmur above the sports channel that played on the boxy television set mounted overhead.

Business was slow.

The place would be entirely vacant if it weren't for the burly man, possibly a truck driver, who sat at a stool before the long bar. He continued to polish off his burger as the two passed him and kept his eyes glued to the baseball players on the TV above him.

The waitress glanced their way as Natasha and Barnes took a seat at a window booth. As Natasha slid into the booth she pulled her phone from her back pocket to find she had several missed calls. Two from Maria Hill and another from an unknown number. Although the unknown number was a bit puzzling, she decided she would deal with that after she had some food in her stomach.

"So you're from Brooklyn, huh?" Natasha mused as she tucked the phone away. Come to think of it, she did remember reading that. Born in Indiana and grew up in New York. Yeah, that sounded about right.

"You read my file," he pointed out as he took off his baseball cap and began tugging a hand through uneven chunks of hair.

"Like I said, it was years ago and that was before you became interesting."

Barnes tilted his head and gave her one of his strange looks that told Natasha he had no idea what she was talking about. And that's when Natasha realized something; his file had failed to included his infamous counterpart. Barnes didn't know about the Winter Soldier. Ah, hell.

That was also right about when the waitress reached their table. Natasha pulled her gaze away from Barnes and smiled up at the woman, politely.

"Hi, I'll have the cheesesteak with fries. And a coke, please."

The waitress turned her attention to Barnes and blinked her chunky eyelashes expectantly. Natasha noticed a brief moment of surprise flash across the woman's face when she got a look at Barnes. Natasha's eyes flew back to him, assuming the waitress had somehow received a glimpse of his abnormal arm. But his jacket kept it entirely hidden and his hands were obscured beneath the table.

Barnes's eyes slid from Natasha, and up to the waitress just as a dark blush went down the woman's neck. Understanding washed over Natasha. She had seen that very same look when Steve would step into a room full of women. Even with that god-awful haircut, his desperate need for a shave, those blood shot eyes, and the dark bruises that framed them...despite _all of that,_ Barnes happened to have the looks of a god-damn movie star.

Natasha considered it an irrelevant detail. What was a pretty face anyways and at the end of the day what the hell did it really get you? Unwanted attention, from the seem of things. Barnes appeared utterly unaware as he gave the round eyed waitress a glazed over look. Maybe he just didn't know how good he looked. Or maybe he was like Natasha, and just didn't care.

"Same," he grunted, fidgeting with his hat beneath the table and shifting his gaze away from hers. The waitress gave Barnes one last bug-eyed stare before leaving their table. Natasha returned her attention to Barnes and promptly resumed their conversation before he could.

"Did you have family in Brooklyn?"

Barnes rolled his shoulders and continued to squirm. "Everyone has family."

_Not everyone. _

Natasha pressed her lips together. Again, she hoped for any kind of emotional response. It could mean he was seeing their faces. Remembering the feelings associated with those faces. Perhaps, remembering their names. She didn't care, as long he _remembered_.

But as usual, Natasha struggled to get a clear read on the man. He seemed tense and antsy but he had been like that in the car.

"What about a girlfriend? Did you have a girl back home?"

He offered her a dry look. "You ask a lot of questions, miss."

"I'm getting to know you." Natasha said with a detached shrug. "That's what people do."

"Anything I can tell you about myself is what I read in that file. None of it's coming back to me." He gave her a level stare. "That's what you really want to know, isn't it?"

Barnes was more perceptive than Natasha gave him credit for. He didn't seem too great at picking up her meaning but he had a strange way of being aware of her intentions.

"A file is just a bunch of printed facts on stapled papers. Papers don't say who you are, right?"

There was a pause, in which Barnes seemed to be rolling over her words. He rubbed at his stubble and turned to look out the window as beads of left-over rain ran down the glass. After a few moments he spoke.

"And what do your papers say about you, Miss Rushman?" He slowly turned his head back to Natasha and pinned her with those eyes.

Natasha could actually feel her own features suddenly freeze in place. For one panic-filled moment Natasha considered that Barnes had found her file at Clint's place. That's why it wasn't here; because Barnes had already gotten a hold of it. And her papers said a _lot_ of things. But then Natasha overruled the paranoid thought by reasoning with herself. _All_ former SHIELD operative files were absent, not just hers. She needed to _relax_.

And she needed to seem unaffected by his question.

"Natalie," Natsha said and Barnes furrowed his dark eyebrows at her. "I'm not your sunday school teacher, you can call me by my first name."

Natasha could see a glimpse of discontent behind his eyes as his lips, ever so slightly, tightened into a mild frown. She then realized that she had found something that bothered him;_ she knew everything about him while he knew next nothing about her._

If this was going to work, Barnes couldn't feel like Natasha was hiding something from him. She would need to give him something. Not a lot but just enough to keep the suspicion at bay for a little longer.

"I work for a government agency. Or at least I did. About a year ago it all went down the drain and since then I've been doing what you might call free lance work. Putting in good deeds here and there. Fixing up my rep."

It would be best to be vague. Natasha leaned forward.

"I'm not looking to use you James. I don't want anything _from_ you but your help finding a former associate of mine. I'm your friend and that's everything you need to know about me. Once the doc fixes you up and your head's right, you'll have your answers, I'll have mine. Everybody's happy."

"And after that we shake hands and go our separate ways," Barnes murmured as his eyes ran over her face.

"Yeah, something like that."

Natasha _wasn't_ looking to use Barnes. But the inconveniant truth was that Natasha would have easily left him on that operating table if he didn't have something she needed. So no, she wasn't using him. Atleast she didn't see it that way. But she may have been stretching things by calling herself his friend.

Then of course, there was Steve. It might just work in Natasha's best interest. Once Barnes gave her everything he had on Clint, she would pass Barnes off to Steve and let him clean up the mess. And there _would_ be a mess. You could bet on that. But unlike Steve, Natasha wasn't too keen on sticking around for it.

The waitress came over then and sat two glasses of Coke on the table. She dried her hands on her apron and glanced obviously at Barnes before retreating from their table. After the waitress was gone, Natasha fixed Barnes with a probing gaze.

"Have you considered that you might not like what you find?"

"I want answers," he said quietly.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked as she ripped open her straw and slipped it into the hissing, carbonated drink.

"I _want_ answers," he repeated in a harder voice and narrowed his eyes at her.

Natasha crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward to take a slow sip from the straw. She blinked up at him as he scowled down at her and could feel a tiny smirk forming around her straw. She swallowed and cleared her throat as she glanced over him. She wondered what he looked like when he smiled. It was likely she would never know.

"Then why haven't you asked about the arm?"

Barnes grew still and Natasha knew she was onto something.

"I'm sure you've realized it's quite the oddity but you haven't asked about it." She gave a light shrug. "You haven't asked why, according to your file, you were born over 90 years ago. You haven't asked if you've got any family left alive. You haven't asked why _we are in Philadelphia_."

Natasha could feel the air changing between them.

"For a man who _wants answers_, you sure aren't asking a lot of questions."

The dark look Natasha was receiving from Barnes made something go off in the back of her head. Something that told her to be _careful_. She had to remember that Barnes was volatile. She'd seen what happened when she pushed him past his limit.

"There's nothing wrong with being empty-" she began in a softer tone.

"I'm not empty," he said sharply.

"I _know_," Natasha said carefully. "But you're far from full and that could mean a fresh start. Take it as a divine gift. I mean, I'm not much of a God fearing woman, well not anymore." After New York Natasha was more of an _all_ fearing woman. "But I hear it's best not to question providence."

Barnes gave her a mystified look as he fidgeted in his seat. "Why are you trying to change my mind?"

"I'm not. I can see when a man has his mind up about something. But I want you to go into this having been warned. When you get your answers things will get ugly from there. You're going want to get even, believe me, there is _always_ someone responsible. I know how this goes and -C_hrist_, what is it _with_ you?"

His hand, yeah, the one made of flesh and bone and _not_ metal, paused where it had been frantically tugging at the back of his collar.

"What?" He asked.

"You got ants in your pants or something? You haven't sat still for _five_ seconds."

Natasha remembering how he'd been dragging his hands up and down that armchair in the parlor. And how he'd been in the car. Barnes _never_ sat still Natasha realized.

Barnes dropped his hand to the table and slowly turned his wide palm up. His fingers were trembling.

"I don't feel well."

Natasha nodded slowly with a slight grimace."Yeah, well you look like hell."

And he really did.

Natasha's phone buzzed beneath her and she sighed, knowing who it was.

"I need to take this," Natasha muttered as she scooted from the booth. As Natasha made her way to the back of the diner, she pulled her phone from her back pocket to see that it was indeed Agent Hill calling.

"You weren't always this sloppy," Hill said as Natasha closed the restroom door behind her.

"People tend to get that way as they come closer to retirement."

"Where is he?" Undeterred by Natasha's cheeky response, Agent Hill got straight to the point.

Natasha had to presume the CIA had infiltrated the Harrisburg base by now, thanks to _her_ intel. But more importantly they had found out about Barnes.

"You found the footage."

"Natasha, this isn't looking good for you and the CIA doesn't take these things lightly. You've work too hard to get to where you are now to throw it all away. Just hand him over. No harm done."

Natasha shook her head. That wasn't option.

"I can't do that. He's too valuable."

_She needed Barnes._

"Then they're going to have to take him from you." Natasha heard Agent Hill sigh deeply on the other end. "...and I'm going to have to help them"

"I appreciate the warning Agent Hill."

Natasha ended the call and slid it into her back pocket. She raised her eyes to her reflection in the smudged mirror and shoved her hair out of the way to look at her face. Wide, troubled eyes blinked back at her. She looked lost.

_"-your name? Who's your daddy? Is he rich like me?"_

Natasha could here that stupid jukebox even in here. It just added more noise to an, already, cluttered mind and the result was suffocating.

What the hell was Natasha doing? She wasn't a lone gunner. She had never gone rogue. She had always, _always_ had someone backing her up. She carried out someone _else's_ missions. She followed orders.

Damn it. Hill was right. Natasha really _had_ worked too hard to get to where she was now.

Natasha's hand went to her throat, a habitual action she slipped into in those rare times of vulnerability. Her fingers fumbled around her collar before she realized what she was doing. _The arrow pendant. _Natasha was searching for her arrow pendant.

Natasha released a short laugh that was more of a breath of disbelief.

This wasn't about _Natasha_ or her _reputation_. This was about _Clint_. A man who had risked it all for a woman he didn't know from Adam. He had put everything on the line for Natasha so why was she hesitating to do the same for him?

Old habits. That's why.


End file.
